To Paint The Picture Of A Life
by chartreuseian
Summary: Helen Magnus has lived a far longer life than she ever thought possible, a thousand different moments coming together to create the woman she now is. This is a series of unrelated moments from her life, in no particular order. Suggestions and prompts more than welcome!
1. Centenary

**OK, so this is something new I'm trying. It's a heap of snippets from Helen's life, just moments here and there that I wanted to write. Some of them come from my other story, Anything Can Happen and I figured that it'd be nice to have them all together somewhere but I want to add to these and write more moments based on my own imagination and anything all you lovely readers want to see :D So, get to it! Gimmie ideas and I'll see what I can do :D**

**xx**

* * *

**August 29th, 1950:**

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

It was a resounding cry and one that echoed about the space. Helen smiled graciously, saving her glare for James later.

He had, thankfully warned her this was coming but even still, it was ungentlemanly of him to force her to endure it.

Or something.

Times were changing and so were attitudes. Helen now found herself being granted significantly more freedoms than she could have even dreamed of back when she was slaving away for a place at Oxford. Barely two decades had passed since the Representation of People Act passed and since then it felt like the world had shifted in her favour.

No longer was James the signatory to every second legal document, no longer was she forced to rely on old connections dating back to her father's era. Now she was a woman of independent means. And she loved it.

The war was gone, hopefully for good and finally Helen felt at peace.

So why did they have to ruin it by reminding her of her age?

She'd only recently disclosed to the majority of her staff what her specific abnormal gift was. She and James had told only the nearest and dearest at first but now... Now she was leaving Britain for a new world and a new Sanctuary. It was a new time. And she no longer felt ashamed of what they were.

For so long the memory of what she'd done to her best friends, of the curse she'd bestowed on them and herself lingered, tainting her very existence but now...

Nikola was gone, Nigel living in France for the time being and it was just James. Only he remained with her and when she looked into his face it was easier to forget what had happened.

She could be herself, finally.

However that did not give her staff an excuse to throw this party. It was horrid, really. Lavish decorations, a huge cake and... a banner. A large, multicoloured banner that proclaimed proudly that Helen had officially lived for one, entire century.

She didn't consider herself a particularly vain woman by any means but all the loving comments she had received surrounding how wonderful she looked for her age did nothing but frustrate her. It wasn't by choice, none of it was. James looked good for his age, he'd worked every single day to make sure of that but Helen... Well, nothing she did could speed up or slow her rate of aging. She didn't look good for her age because she wasn't her age.

That and there was something menacing about a three digit number.

Holding her tight smile in place, Helen stepped forwards and tried to look pleased. She spotted James chortling away to himself in the corner and decided that once everyone had ceased the cheerful cries in her direction, she'd go box his ears in.

It wasn't that she wasn't flattered, because she was. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy a party or two, because she did. It was the fact that she hated, more than anything else, being the focus of all that attention when she'd done nothing to deserve it. Praise and celebration for her work at the Sanctuary she accepted with a wide grin but this...

"Thank you," she said as warmly as she could, brushing a stray red curl behind an ear. For all James had said he loved the colour, she was getting frustrated with it already and it had only been two decades.

People swarmed forwards, all clamouring for hugs and a few rouge kisses until Helen suddenly found herself rather alone. All the well wishers faded away, back to where the drinks and music were situated, leaving Helen apparently free to glare at James.

His eyes were dancing with mirth as she stalked towards him but, to his credit, he did not try and melt away as she was stopped numerous times.

She slapped his shoulder. Hard.

"It's just a party, Helen," he tried, still grinning like an idiot.

"And one that I am certain you organised," she hissed back, hitting him again. He captured her hand before she could slap his shoulder a third time, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

So she hit him with her other hand.

He jumped back from her and scowled.

"You really are a horrible person some times," he said, shaking his head. "Now go get a drink and cheer up."

"I told you I didn't want this, James," she said, voice low and dangerous. "I told you to make sure that all this idiocy was kept to a minimum. And what do I find?"

"A celebration for you, darling," he said, taking her by the arm. It was supposed to be a soothing gesture she guessed but she shook him off.

"I find that you have gone behind my back and not only ignored what I asked of you but have encouraged it!"

"Voice down, darling," he said softly, eyes flashing in warning as he tugged her that bit closer.

Much to her disgust, Helen found that tears were beginning to well in her eyes. James, of course, noticed merely a fraction after she did and pulled her into a tight hug.

"What's the matter?" he whispered soothingly against the side of her head. Helen sighed and sagged against him.

"It's nothing," she tried, knowing it wouldn't sit.

He pulled back and made a face.

"You are the worst liar I've ever come across," he said, shaking his head. "Now tell me. And don't pretend it's because you think you're old."

She smiled and wiped away a stray tear.

It wasn't the party. It wasn't the age. It wasn't the unnecessary expenditure on such a pointless occasion. It wasn't... it wasn't any of the things she'd been trying to convince herself of.

"They should be here," she whispered, bowing her head and taking James' hand.

"They're closer than you think."

His words startled her and her head snapped back up. She'd expected another hug, perhaps a few words of comfort but not that.

Smiling softly, James squeezed her hand before tugging her further into his little alcove.

He turned quickly and grabbed from the ledge behind him, two brightly coloured packages. One was gaudy, covered in pink and orange, tied with a huge blue ribbon while the other was plain red. But not quite red. It was a darker, more seductive colour. Crimson.

She took the orange package first, eagerly liberating whatever lay beneath the overt coverings.

"Oh my," she half breathed, looking up to James in excitement. It was a small, sealed glass bowl filled to the brim with crystal clear water. Inside was what appeared to be a fish crossed with a snake only in miniature. It glittered brightly despite the dim lighting, its deep blue scales catching the light as it swam lazily about its container.

"It is a Mitronvalic," James said softly, his eyes too trained on the creature. "From what Nigel said, it needs no oxygen to live. In fact, it produces oxygen as a waste product."

"We must unseal the glass," Helen said quickly but James pulled it away from her.

"Nigel also wanted me to warn you that he's a tricky bugger who takes pleasure in jumping from his home and into the ears of anyone around."

"Perhaps we should find him a secure home for him then," Helen said carefully, smiling at the creature as James set it aside.

"Now this," he said with a heavy sigh, "arrived on my desk a few weeks ago baring only a single note which stated that I was to give it to you today. I can only assume at its origins but..."

"But we both know who it is from," she finished eagerly. She tore at the red wrapping carelessly until she came to a small, beaten notebook that lay within. She paused for a moment and then smiled.

"It is the one they suspected was stolen," she breathed, brushing her fingers across the black leather. "The police were certain someone took it from his rooms before the body was reported."

"Apparently he did not leave all his worldly goods in that room then," James said with a faint smile. Helen paid little attention to him, too engrossed in what Nikola's old notebook could mean.

Smiling, she held it to her chest.

"See, turning 100 isn't that scary," James teased. She hit him with the notebook. "I take that back. It's bloody scary when you're me."


	2. Ashley's Birthday Surprise

**May 16th, 1996:**

Helen smiled to herself as she regarded the fruits of her labour. The entire room was decked out in bright orange streamers, orange and yellow presents stacked in one corner and, the icing on the cake, so to speak, was the giant chocolate cake slathered with orange icing that sat in the centre of the table.

Everything was ready.

It had taken her weeks to prepare it all, trying her best to keep everything hidden. It wasn't every day that her little girl hit the big double digits after all.

The guests had been sworn to secrecy, the gifts had all been wrapped in matching paper and the day was going to go from high to high. Starting with cake for breakfast, a much lusted after treat apparently.

Helen had managed a few small miracles in bringing together this birthday party, the least of which was hiding upstairs in the room beside Ashley's. Uncle Jamie had flown in especially, arms laden with gifts of all shapes and sizes for his favourite niece. Watching them interact always made Helen's heart throb with in a very peculiar, there was something very touching about how James doted on Ashley and, even though it sometimes made Helen wish she'd allowed James to play the father as he'd so pleaded, she wouldn't change a thing about the way they loved one another.

Sharing Ashley with her boys had always been something of a dream for Helen. It seemed almost unfair that those who had made up such a large portion of her very long life shouldn't get to meet the most important thing she'd ever done in that very long life.

At least she had James, she reminded herself before straightening a cluster of balloons beside the door.

He was Helen's birthday present to Ashley in many ways. He was staying for just over a month and Helen had every intention of taking at least two thirds of that time off. With Ashley on summer holidays, it seemed the perfect time for them both to take a step back from work. After all, she had it on good authority that James was almost as tied to the job as she was.

Chuckling at the thought of the look on James' face when she announced that they'd have sweets for breakfast today, Helen set off towards her daughter's bedroom.

She paused outside the door, smoothing down her white sundress before knocking softly. She didn't expect Ashley to still be asleep but she had promised to stay in her room until Helen came to fetch her.

When the door didn't fly open to expose an over excited 10 year old, dressed in her most favouritest skirt (she was such a girly girl sometimes, it made Helen laugh), Helen pushed open the door tentatively.

"Ashley?" she asked. "Are you up yet, sweetie? Don't tell me you've forgotten what day it is!"

But there was no response. Skin prickling in alarm, Helen opened the door fully and stepped into the messy room.

"Ashley?" she called again. The bed was unmade (as per usual) and her pyjamas thrown over the end of her bed (as per usual) but there was no sign of the girl which was unusual. Ashley, for all her tenacity, listened when Helen asked her to stay put. They'd come to a sort of hidden language not too long ago where Ashley had learnt that when she was asked to stay put, she really ought to.

Rampaging abnormals really helped enforce the point.

Something about this didn't seem right to Helen. Even if Ashley had disobeyed her, she'd have come to the kitchen or Helen's room or...

Perhaps she'd found James.

Turning on her heel, Helen stalked down the corridor, heart beating frantically. She didn't even knock on James' door, simply tossing it open. He was only partially dressed but she didn't bat an eye.

"Is Ashley with you?"

"No," he said slowly, drawing out the word. "Why?"

"She's not in her room."

In half a second he had thrown on his shirt, and rushed to her side.

"Come," he ordered, striding back towards Ashley's room as he fastened his shirt of the chest plate of the device that kept him alive. He took her hand as they stepped into Ashley's room, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

"Ashley," he called, looking about. "Ashley, darling?"

They got no response and Helen clung to his hand a little bit tighter. He stood absolutely still for a moment, observing the room as only he could. When he chuckled softly, anger began to rise in Helen's stomach. Turning to tell him off for being so cavalier about it all, she was shocked to find him smiling at her indulgently.

"It's a good thing you weren't the detective of the group," he said, shaking his head. "She's received a letter." James nodded towards the centre of Ashley's unmade bed where, lo and behold, a torn envelope lay.

"But that doesn't tell us where she is," Helen said curtly. The fear bubbling away in her stomach wasn't dissipating as James clearly had thought it would.

"I'm sure she hasn't gone far," he said, patting her hand. The condescending tone had Helen just about to hit him.

Yanking her hand free, Helen turned on her heel and strode to the nearest elevator.

"You start with the attic, I'll begin in the catacombs," she growled over her shoulder at James. "Tell anyone you come across that the party-"

"Helen?"

"-is postponed until further notice."

"Helen?"

"I'll check the security cameras too and-"

"Helen?"

"-if you could go ask Henry to help us find her-"

"Helen!"

"Stop interrupting me!"

"I found Ashley."

Spinning back to face him, Helen blanched, before dashing back to his side. James stood by the window, smug smirk in place. He took her hand, pulling her close as he pointed to a small, orange speck dancing about on the lawns.

Helen laughed in spite of herself and relaxed against James' chest.

"What on earth is she doing?" James asked.

"Possibly dancing," Helen supplied easily.

"No, look, there's something metallic. It keeps catching the sunlight."

"Did you give her an early present?" she asked absently. "I made Henry promise that he wouldn't this year."

"No, I have a few pieces tucked away to give her tonight when everything else has died down."

"I suggest I go practice my detective skills then," she said with a smile, taking his hand again as they made their way to the elevator.

* * *

As they stepped out into the brilliant sunshine, Helen couldn't help but smile at the sound of her daughter's joyous laughter.

She was wearing her very favourite skirt and a white shirt that already had a few grass stains on it with some sort of necklace Helen had never seen before. It was a dark metal, almost bronze but with hints of gold and silver threaded through it. It bumped against her chest as she sprinted across the grass towards Helen and James.

"UNCLE JAMIE!" Ashley half screamed, launching herself into his arms with a laugh. James caught her easily, swinging her around in a circle.

"Happy birthday, beautiful," he said, giving her a swift kiss to the cheek.

"This is the best birthday ever," she said happily, looking over to Helen as she snuggled into James' arms. "Thank you for the presents, Mom."

"I haven't given you your presents yet," Helen replied, bemused. "But I do like your necklace, where did you get it?"

Ashley frowned, fingering the metal.

"The letter you gave me said to come down here though..." she said, looking up to Helen, perplexed.

"Show me the letter," Helen said cautiously. Ashley wiggled about until James put her down before she ran across the lawn. Helen and James followed quickly and Ashley turned at their approach, offering a beaten piece of paper to them along with a small white rose, trimmed of all thorns.

"It was on my bed this morning," Ashley said. "The handwriting is all... scrolly like yours."

James chuckled at the comment as he studied the paper before handing it over to Helen. "Look familiar to you?"

She scanned her eyes over the note and swallowed before nodding.

"But are you sure he's even... It's been decades."

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well?" Ashley suddenly burst in. "Who gave it to me?"

Helen and James shared a look before Helen smiled.

"We aren't sure, darling. But the necklace is very pretty."

Ashley narrowed her eyes, playing with the tail end of her long braid.

"It's not just a necklace," she said, still regarding her mother cautiously. "Look."

Suddenly she turned, holding one arm out to the side as the other rose to fiddle with her necklace. There was a beat before, out of nowhere, something shiny was flying straight towards them. And it was literally flying. As it got closer to them, Helen could see wings flapping and, as it came to a gentle stop on Ashley's outstretched arm, the thing even cooed.

"Well, there's our answer," James said softly. "A damn pigeon..."

The creature was purely mechanical, the bronzed wings shining in the sunlight as it shifted about on Ashley's arm. The girl petted its back gently and it cooed again, pressing its head back against her hand. The soft hiss of joints and cogs beneath the polished exterior was the only real proof that it wasn't a real bird now nuzzling against Ashley's cheek.

"Isn't he lovely," Ashley said softly, looking up to Helen and James with glowing eyes. "He does tricks too and all I need to do is press on the necklace and he comes back to me."

Carefully, so as not to disrupt the bird, she turned to properly face Helen, allowing Helen the chance to properly inspect the bird and necklace.

"How beautiful," Helen said, kneeling on the ground to watch the bird better.

And then, all of a sudden, the bird shifted back, pointing its tiny beak towards Helen as it began to sing a very familiar song. It was one from her youth, a song her mother used to sing as she sewed in the morning room. In fact, it was the very first song Helen ever learnt to play on the piano. She felt James' hand land on her shoulder as tears pricked her eyes.

Then, when she was certain the bird had shown off the best of its gifts, the necklace slowly began to open. Ashley, allowing the now silent pigeon to climb up to her shoulder carefully reached into the locket and pulled out a curled up piece of paper along with a small square of card.

Her eyes wizzed over the paper before she handed it to Helen, focusing instead on the square.

You look just like your mother.

"You're so pretty," Ashley said softly, tracing a finger over the square. Helen shifted so she could see it, taken aback by the clarity of the picture. It was an old one, one she remembered having taken but it had been so long since she'd seen it. Nikola had taken it when she wasn't paying attention with his self devised camera. This piece had been cut from a larger one for Helen knew that the arm around her waist as she laughed heartily belonged to John but it still contained her smiling face and James'.

"She does look just like you," James offered, smiling down.

"I wish my hair was curly like that," Ashley said with a heavy sigh, drawing a laugh from Helen.

"Well," she said, standing and holding a hand out to her daughter, "perhaps today we'll curl your hair then."

Ashley wrinkled her nose.

"With those hot things? Nah-uh."

"Come on birthday girl," Helen said with a laugh. "It's time for breakfast cake."

The squeal her statement received made James groan but Helen was unable to keep from grinning. Today was going to be a good day.


	3. Bump In The Night

**October 7th, 1951. Old City:**

Pulling the sheets tighter around her, Helen screwed her eyes shut. She was too old to be afraid of the dark and much too experienced to be afraid of the soft noises that were floating up through the thick floorboards. However, reminding herself of the fact wasn't helping to slow her pounding heart.

It was no more noisy than London had been, no colder. Perhaps it was larger but that should have given her a feeling of comfort, she reasoned. If, god forbid, one of the residents got loose, it would take long enough for them to make it to her that she'd have plenty of time to arm herself.

In some ways the distance frightened her though. The creatures she'd gone to such pains to find were her friends for the most part and, considering she was yet to properly staff the place, they were all she had here.

James had offered to come with her, even for a short stay but, in her stubbornness, Helen had shrugged him off. Now she was half tempted to write him and beg that he come visit as soon as possible even though the letter would take weeks to arrive.

Gritting her teeth, Helen burrowed further beneath her covers, fingers and toes twisting in the sheets.

She was not afraid, she was not afraid.

She didn't know afraid, she'd never done afraid. Hadn't her mother often remarked at her fearless nature?

So why was she curled in on herself, body paralysed with fear as she waited for her first night to pass?

Not even when she'd been on the Titanic had she been this afraid.

She didn't do afraid.

And then something rattled in the hallway outside her door and Helen yelped.

She actually yelped.

A thousand garish curses rushed through her head.

She didn't **do **afraid.

With a deep breath, Helen forced herself to close her eyes and unclench her toes at the very least. She was safe, her friends were here, she was amongst those who cared for her and would protect her from any true danger. James had made sure of that. Even if he hadn't been allowed to come with her, he'd been stubborn to the point of aggravating when it came to choosing the residents they were going to ship over.

In fact, James had been instrumental in the whole thing. He'd covered her patients when she'd gone to look at the place, he'd walked her through the contract paper work and, whilst renovations were going on, he listened to her prattle on and on about whichever snag was causing her headache that day.

But when it had come to saying goodbye, he'd been almost as much as a blubbering mess as the rest of their staff. Their goodbye had been loaded with dark looks and James had even given her a deep, promising kiss in front of at least 20 witnesses, much to Helen's shock. They hadn't been together like that in nearly a decade.

Then another crash sounded and Helen barely stifled her yelp of fear.

This was stupid, so very stupid. There was nothing to be afraid of.

But she did not leap out of bed at the thought to charge away and find out what was banging about.

In fact, what she did do was try and recall every kiss she'd ever been given. Her memory was good and the night was long and soon enough she was smiling to herself about the shy approach Nikola had used to capture her first adult kisses.

His moustache had tickled in a surprisingly pleasing way as they'd steadily learned each other to the point where she'd been ready to disrobe for him in the library.

After that, it was John who took her kisses. He'd always made her feel small and precious, like a dainty waif that was about to float away if it wasn't for the pressure of his arm around her waist. Of course, their kisses had grown steadily too until the point at which she actually had taken it upon herself to disrobe for him. The sweet shock on his face had been the ego boost she'd needed to slip from the bed and waltz towards him slowly.

But then their time together ended rather abruptly and, Helen realised, she couldn't actually remember their last kiss. She pushed the thought from her mind. The next kiss she had received was from Nigel, his drunken attempt at seduction making her laugh heartily at his expense the next morning.

He hadn't tried again for more than thirty years.

Then came a few anonymous men and a single curious woman who had shocked Helen's sensibilities.

A little while on was James, dear James with his fumbling hands and his throaty moans. There had been something boyish about kissing him. In many ways, he had seemed more innocent than Nikola.

Between them all were a few others, women and men and, occasionally she would return to Nikola and his quiet calm that he could exude when they kissed. He was one of the best kissers on the planet, Helen decided sleepily. It was a great shame he was dead...

And then, next thing she knew, it was morning.

The sun was streaming in through the window, clear and bright and she smiled.

Next time Helen heard a bang in the middle of the night, she didn't hide beneath the covers.

After all, morning would always come.


	4. Family Christmas

**Christmas eve, 1995:**

"No, Ash!" Henry whined, pulling a face. "C'mon, can't I have one night off?"

"Please?" she begged in return, tugging on his hand. "Please, Henry, please, please, please?"

Henry made another face and looked to Helen for help but she merely chuckled, holding her hands up as she watched their antics from her place on the couch. The room was lavishly decorated with hundreds of handmade decorations and what Helen suspected had been the entire tinsel section in every shop in a three mile radius. Ashley had been in charge of decorations which, in retrospect, Helen realised was a mistake.

Even her old friend hadn't been able to rein her in though Helen suspected that that had more to do with a lack of want more than anything else.

"Maybe later," Henry tried, making to shake Ashley off but the eight year old was relentless.

"You said that last night and then she," Helen got an accusatory look at that point, "made me go to bed!"

"Speaking of which," Helen said, making to stand.

"No!" Ashley cried in dismay. "No, no, no! It's Christmas Eve, please, can't I stay up just a bit longer?"

"You heard the boss lady," Henry said cheerfully, sounding relieved. Helen sighed and pursed her lips, enjoying Henry's newfound look of distress.

"Do you promise to go straight to bed when I tell you?" she asked her daughter who was still giving her the most imploring look in her repertoire.

"Yes!" Ashley cried, nodding vehemently.

"And you'll brush your teeth without complaint?"

"Of course!"

"And you'll not sneak out of bed before 6am?"

"I'll stay in bed until dinner time!" she cried passionately.

Helen pretended to mull it over, watching as Henry started to edge towards the door. Her old friend stood as subtly as he could manage and moved to busy himself just in front of the exit Henry had been aiming for.

"Alright. One more hour."

Ashley let out a squeal of delight as Henry flushed bright red. Almost immediately she skipped back to his side, tugging on the oddly loose pants he was wearing. Helen knew they were supposedly in style but she didn't understand what Henry found so attractive about their style. Perhaps he was trying to toss off his otherwise good-boy reputation.

"Now you have to sing with me!" Ashley cried happily. "Mom, go put the record on again. Quick, before he runs away!"

Chuckling, Helen stood slowly and did as her daughter asked, setting the needle carefully in place. A few beats of scratchy silence passed before the first strains of the song floated through the room. Ashley was practically jumping up and down on Henry's arm with excitement.

She nodded out the beats, eyes alive with joy as Helen watched on from her position beside the gramophone.

"I really can't stay," she sung, looking up to Henry as prompt but the teenager merely made a pained face.

"I've got to go 'way," she continued, holding his arm even more firmly, eyes wide in a plea Helen was sure he'd not deny for long.

"This evening has been... So very nice," Ashley continued, starting to sound a little angry. The thought of Ashley throwing a tantrum had Helen about ready to step in but, with a heavy sigh, Henry cut in smoothly.

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice..."

Ashley squealed with excitement once more, missing her next line but Henry was ready with his.

"Hey beautiful, what's your hurry?"

_And father will be pacing the floor (Listen to that fireplace roar)_  
_So really, I'd better scurry (Beautiful, please don't hurry)_  
_Well, maybe just a half a drink more (Put some music on while I pour)_

Henry was well on his way to smiling now, pulling faces and goofing about just as they had always done together. Ashley was throwing herself into the number wholeheartedly, going so far as to flutter her eyelashes at her big brother in a manner that made Helen certain there'd come a time when her shotgun would indeed be used to fend off admirers.

_The neighbours might think (Baby, it's bad out there)_  
_Say, what's in this drink (No cabs to be had out there)_  
_I wish I knew how (Your eyes are like starlight now)_  
_To break this spell (I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell)_

With a flourish, Henry ruffled Ashley's golden mop of hair and Helen smiled as she watched her daughter recoil in mock horror. Henry gave her his most debonair bow too, earning another peal of laughter and Helen wondered if her shotgun might be needed in the next few months or so. If Henry could get over his infernal inability to talk to girls, he'd be something of a heartbreaker himself.

_I oughtta say no, no, no sir (You mind if I move in closer)_  
_At least I'm gonna say that I tried (And what's the sense in hurting my pride)_  
_I really can't stay (Oh baby, don't hold out)_  
_Oh, but it's cold outside_

As they sang the last line together, Henry pulled Ashley up into his arms, swinging her around with another grin. A grunt of laughter caught Helen's attention and she turned just in time to see a warm smile grace her old friend's face. Christmas had always been an important time to him but ever since Ashley was born and Henry had arrived, it had become an even bigger event for him. In fact, the sheer number of decorations he'd managed to cram into her sitting room this year was beyond measure.

_I simply must go (It's cold outside)_  
_The answer is no (Baby, it's cold outside)_  
_The welcome has been (So lucky that you dropped in)_  
_So nice and warm (Look out the window at that storm)_

Growing up, Helen had longed for Christmas time to come around. It was the only time she was ever guaranteed of her father's presence, even before her mother passed away. It was, to Helen's mind, a family time. Though that didn't stop her from setting her alarm as she had so that tomorrow she could squeeze in a little paper work before the morning's festivities. After all, if she wanted to really enjoy the day with her family, she need peace of mind. Right?

_My sister will be suspicious (Your lips look delicious)_  
_My brother will be there at the door (I ain't worried about you brother)_  
_My maiden aunt's mind is vicious (That ol' biddy, she ain't gonna bother me)_  
_Well maybe just a cigarette more (You don't need no cigarette, it's smokin' plenty up in here)_

As Ashley sashayed her way across the room, Helen chuckled softly, unwilling to reprimand her as she clambered up the sofa. Henry however, was on to it already, crossing the room in a few big strides and scooped her up over his shoulder so that her last line dissolved into giggles until he set her down neatly on the floor.

_I've got to get home (Baby, you'll freeze out there)_  
_Say, lend me a comb (It's up to your knees out there)_  
_You've really been grand (I thrill when you touch my hand)_  
_Oh, but don't you see (How can you do this thing to me)_

With a flourish, Henry held his hand out to Ashley, pulling her once again into his arms as she perched on his toes. Their height made it awkward but together they managed something of a waltz about the room.

_There's bound to be talk tomorrow (Well, think of my lifelong sorrow)_  
_At least there will be plenty implied (If you caught pneumonia and died)_  
_I really can't stay (Get over that hold out)_  
_Oh, but baby it's cold outside_

And, as the song came to an end, Henry slung Ashley up onto his back, much to her delight.

"Oof," he grunted, scowling. "You're almost too big for this!"

"Never!" Ashley cried. "Now go, take me to my room, faithful steed!"

Henry rolled his eyes but made his way towards Helen with a badly concealed grin.

"Sleep well," she said, kissing them both on the cheek, stoking Ashley's hair. "I'll come wake you for presents?"

"Really, really early," Ashley said, nodding from where she was clutching to Henry's back. "As soon as Santa's gone."

"How about as soon as my alarm goes?" she offered as a compromise. Her daughter pouted but Henry made a face.

"You guys are such morning people," he grumbled half heartedly.

"Well then go to bed," she teased. "Perhaps an early night will do you good."

Rolling his eyes, Henry kissed her on the cheek and trudged away, only to stop just in front of the Big Guy.

"You aren't going to kiss us too?" he asked, earning a displeased grunt.

"If she wasn't protecting your head," her old friend threatened, raising a hand as a taunt. Henry merely grinned but Ashley was apparently fed up.

"Hurry up, Henry," she urged. "The earlier we get to sleep, the sooner we can open presents!"


	5. The Fight for Finishing School

**Huge thank you to ADeclanFan for letting me use her line of Helen at boarding school and then going to finishing school at the request of her father. It spawned this and I just couldn't get it out of my head!**

**xx**

* * *

**_July, 1868:_  
**

"My decision is final, Helen," Gregory roared, fists clenched just as tight as his jaw. "You will leave in the morning."

"But this is wholly unfair!" Helen cried in reply, clutching at her skirts to close the distance between them that much quicker. "Please, Father. Be reasonable."

He scoffed at that, waving a dismissive hand in her direction before turning to stalk out of the room. However, Helen was not so easily put off. With a silent curse for all the layers that stilled her natural movements, she followed him as best she could, unwilling to give up the fight.

"I have spent all my life in one type of school or another," she continued as he kept moving down the thin corridor. Several maids scurried out of the way as they went, wide eyes disappearing behind heavy doors to avoid the wrath of the master and his too wilful daughter.

Helen knew what they thought of her and, although in that moment she was proving them correct, she did not care. Her entire being was focused instead on her father and convincing him to see things from her point of view.

"With good reason," Gregory called over his shoulder. "And, for the past two years, at your request."

"Which is entirely different," she replied smartly. "I chose to stay at boarding school so that I could continue to _learn_."

"And that is why I am sending you to school once more," he growled over his shoulder, eyes darkening enough that Helen knew she ought to tread carefully.

"The school you intend to ship me off to does not partake in proper _learning_," she spat. "It is a glorified ladies club with aims to transform me into a mindless zombie that can do nothing but fawn over dresses and the like."

At that, her father came to a stop. He turned slowly but Helen refused to be intimidated.

"I am almost 19 years old, Father," she continued, willing the waver in her voice to disappear. "It is high time you come to understand that I am not a foolish creature you can ship all over the country so you do not have to deal with me for more than a month at a time. I will no-"

"How dare you," he said, his voice a near whisper yet dark enough to cut her off. "How dare you speak to me like that. I am you father, girl and you would do well to remember that. _I _have indulged you these past two years, _I_ allowed you to play about at the school under the pretence of furthering your academic education. And now_ I_ am saying that you will go to this finishing school and, mark my words, you will have your things packed and ready before Friday morning or so help me, Helen..."

"But I want to learn," she implored, barely avoiding the urge to sink to her knees before him. "I want to go to a university, I want to study. Please, Father. You know I am more than capable of passing the entrance exams they require."

"You are going to this school and that is final, Helen. I suggest you not test my patience much further."

Again, he turned to leave but Helen was too quick, grabbing him by the arm before he could take much more than a step.

"Why?" she begged, tears beginning to form in her eyes. With her free hand she reached up, brushing her now unstylishly mussed curls back from her face. "Why, Father? Why do you want me gone so desperately? I know this is not the life you would have chosen and I... I am truly sorry to be such a burden on you but this school..." She couldn't help the few tears that spilled though she did hastily wipe them away with the back of her hand. "You have to understand me, Papa. I... I simply cannot go there. I will not survive it."

And then, just before she crumpled, his arms were around her, holding her tight as she wept against his shoulder. She was not one for tears and in truth it had been a while since she'd even cried, let alone before her father but, the prospect of another year surrounded by pompous young women who looked down on her because the books she read did not tell romantic stories but factual recounts was enough to break her spirit.

Together, they sunk to the ground, Gregory's arms cradling her to his chest. Helen's fist were crumpling the front of his jacket as she clung to him, trying to force coherent words from her mouth but, even to her ears, the words were scrambled.

"Shh," Gregory cooed, rubbing a hand against her back. "It's all right, darling. Just breathe. You're all right."

Sniffling, Helen pulled back just enough to look up at her father, wiping away a stray tear.

"Please don't make me go to that awful place," she whispered. "Please, Papa. I... I couldn't bear it. Not again. Not with all those girls."

"Now how do you know it will be awful?" he asked kindly, cupping her cheek.

"Because," Helen began with a sniffle, "Alice McBride and Henrietta Montgaul are both there which means all their little friends will be there too and I cannot take another year of their taunting."

"The girls who did that horrid thing to your books?" he queried, eyes darkening in anger. Helen realised a moment too late that she had in fact not divulged the names of her tormentors previously. It had been a point of pride for her; she refused to taddle on them to her father, no matter how wonderful it would have been to see him rage against their parents.

She nodded, biting her lip.

"I... It was one thing at school," she admitted. "At least there was some academic education for me to hide away behind but... Oh, Father, why do I need a finishing school? I know I do not have the manner Mama had but, really..."

He smiled sadly, anger fading for the moment as he held her tightly.

"You need no finishing," he said softly. "You are regal and one of the most beautifully composed young ladies I have ever met in my life."

"Then wh-"

He held up a hand to silence and, for once, she did as he was requesting.

"But there will come a time, all too soon, I'm afraid, that I will not be here for you, Helen. I am an old man, older than I should be to raise such a hellion as you but it is something I cannot change. More than that, my work can be risky and I am inclined to believe I do not have an overly long life ahead of me."

"Do not speak like that," she cried angrily, slapping at his chest. "I refused to speak of such morbid things. You are young enough and certainly not old enough to consider death, Father."

"Let me finish," he chastised softly, taking her hand. "What I am trying to say, Helen, is that one day you may very well need to marry to secure the life to which you are accustomed. I know how you feel about marriage and the idea of being married but, when I am gone, there will be no one left to care for you." He smiled fondly at her, squeezing her hand. "I wish I could say that the world will change enough in my lifetime to allow you to govern yourself and your house as you wish once I am no longer here but, well, it is not certain. And I want you to be looked after, Helen. I need to be assured that your future is as bright as you deserve."

"So let me go to university," she begged. "Or, better yet, let me learn from you. I want to learn, Father. And I am a good student, I promise."

"I know you are, darling. And that is why I know you will learn well from this new school. You are a bright young woman with a mind to rival that of most men but, one day, you will have to marry and I want you to have your pick of suitors. You do not want a man who is simply drawn in by your pretty smiles and shining curls, Helen. You want a man who values the traits that this school will teach you. Trust me on this, darling. While you stand to inherit everything I own, a husband of good standing will one day make your life far easier and more comfortable. I want you to have the very best chance that I can give you and... and you need what this school can teach you. _I_ need to know that you will be well."

At that, she was struck speechless, blinking up at him mutely while she tried to compute what he was saying. Instead of giving her that chance, Gregory took her hands in his once more.

"Please, Helen," he begged softly. "Just... Just try it. For me?"

He must have sensed her apprehension because he pulled her back into a tight embrace with a frown.

"Just one term. If, by Christmas you truly cannot stand it, we can talk again, all right? Just... just try it, Helen. Please."

With a half a sob, Helen buried her face against her father's neck, wishing more than anything that she was once again small enough for him to hold her to his chest as he used to. She was thankful he didn't press her for an answer, instead letting her cling to his jacket with a grip not entirely sensible.

And, as he whispered softly against the crown of her head, Helen felt her worries lessen ever so slightly. Perhaps she could do it after all. For her Papa.


	6. A Night At The Pub

**May, 1879:**

"Are you sure this will work?" Helen asked, tugging absently at her ill fitting waistcoat.

"No one will be able to tell," Nigel assured her as he straightened her cap.

"I look ridiculous," she muttered darkly.

"You do not," he tried. "Just keep your head down and speak with an accent like Nikola's. No one will question it."

Helen sent him an uncertain look before turning to James.

He held up his hands as if fending her off.

"You wanted this, Helen. Don't start dragging me into it, you know my views already."

She pulled a face and turned away from him to cast one more look over her attire in the mirror. Part of her mind was disapproving of the fact that she had four young men standing in her bedroom but the trousers, dress shirt, waistcoat and jacket she wore took precedence with her moral centre.

"I look odd," she muttered, narrowing her eyes.

"I like the pants?" Nikola offered. Someone thumped him on the shoulder and Helen turned just in time to see him shrug at her innocently. "You're much littler than I thought," he tried by way of explanation. "With all those skirts I thought you would be... bigger."

"Watch your tongue, Tesla," John said darkly, giving the other man a glare.

Helen merely rolled her eyes at both of them and went back to fussing with her appearance.

"Look, Helen, if you want to do this, then I don't think you have much of a choice," Nigel said reasonably. "The clothes fit, there ain't much more we can do."

"I know, and I am truly thankful to you Nigel for setting all this up for me. It's just that..."

"If you're not comfortable..." John offered.

"No," Helen said firmly. "No, let us go. I want to come with you tonight."

And she meant it. She'd spent ages wanting to go with the boys to a pub for the evening. It seemed like a foreign world to her, filled with mystery and intrigue in the form of ale. Not that she hadn't been to her share of seedy establishments but that wasn't what she wanted. Nor did she want a dinner out with them either. She wanted an evening with no pressure, no decorum, where she was neither host nor the anomaly dining with too many male companions at once.

Plus the boys always seemed to have such fun on nights like this.

Gathering her wits, Helen turned to them, gesturing for them to lead the way. James and John both shook their heads as they headed out the door, Nigel not far behind them. Nikola hung back though and offered his arm to her.

"You do look very nice," he said earnestly as she accepted it. "Before... I didn't mean to say you looked big in your dresses... It's just that there is an awful lot of fabric..."

Helen laughed as he stumbled through his apology before shifting closer to him.

"I took no offence," she assured him. "And you're right, I do feel much smaller dressed like this. I believe I could even step into a carriage without assistance."

Nikola chuckled, shaking his head.

"One day, all women shall be allowed to dress like this," he said, eyeing her. "It is far more practical than all that lace and... and... and fluff."

"Oh I don't know," Helen said coyly as they walked towards the stairs. "I won't deny that this is far more comfortable than a corset but I know the power my skirts can hold with all their lace and fluff."

"If more people could see you dressed like this, less people would be enraptured by your skirts," he told her firmly. "Now come. We have to get you well and truly... I believe the word Nigel uses is plastered."

Helen laughed but allowed him to lead her towards the front door.

* * *

The walk to the pub was quiet and uneventful much to Helen's surprise. She'd expected to have been accosted several times already but, as they settled themselves into one corner of the already bustling pub, Helen had to bite back a smile.

This might actually work.

"Slouch," someone hissed in her ear, a thumb poking at her ribs. She turned to see Nikola glaring at her. "Slouch," he said again. "You're sitting like a girl."

Alarm flooded through her as she quickly worked to mimic the way Nigel was lounging across from her.

Which, of course, prompted them all to break out into a fit of laugher.

"You're too easy," Nikola teased, taking a sip of the wine he'd ordered.

"And you are a horrible friend," she retorted under her breath, slapping his stomach with the back of her hand.

"Welcome to an evening at the pub, Helen," James muttered, shaking his head. "You've much to learn."


	7. James' Waters

**_March, 1912:_**

"Don't be so foolish, James," she said, shaking her head. "I will be perfectly fine."

"Would you believe me if I said I had a bad feeling about all this?" he tried, giving Helen a sad smile.

"You can tell me your waters suggest I do not partake in this voyage and I shall not believe you," she replied, smug. "You just don't want me to go visit Nikola."

"It's got nothing to do with him," James said darkly.

"Of course not," Helen said condescendingly, patting his shoulder for good measure. "And you're not at all worried that I'll jump to his arms the moment I see him, either."

"Helen…" He drew out her name in warning but she only chuckled.

"Admit it, James. You are far more worried about what lies on the other side of the Atlantic than what may transpire as I cross it."

"I'm worried about you," he tried again.

"Worrying about what I, a full grown and completely independent woman of means, plan to do with my time is not only a waste of your prodigious brain, James, but, to be frank, insulting."

"Hel-"

"_Further_, this trip had been in the planning for months. If you care to remember, you were invited also."

"Helen."

"_And_ I will abide by your jealousy over absolutely nothing not a minute longer, James." She took his hands and gave him a warm smile, taking a step towards him. "I'll admit, I've never understood precisely why you get so very protective of me, especially when Nikola is involved but there is nothing to fear, James. I love Nikola, just as I love you. And, I am going to visit him, just as I would if you lived in the Americas."

He sighed and closed his eyes, pulling her closer until he could wrap his arms around her.

"Helen, Helen, Helen," he said, sounding suddenly weary. "Can't you just listen to me? Just this once? It's… I want you to be safe."

"And buck the trend of a lifetime?" she asked in mock surprise. "Why, James… It's as if you don't even know me at all."

He chuckled, leaning his cheek against the top of her head in what Helen fancied was a rather brotherly gesture. In return, she wrapped an arm around his waist.

"You know I'll be perfectly safe," she continued. "Nikola won't harm me."

"It is not Nikola that scares me," James admitted. "It is what you become when you are around him."

"And that is?"

"Absolutely mad."

She would have slapped his should if he hadn't been holding her so close to his chest, which, she supposed, was possibly the reason behind the embrace. Instead she settled for poking him in the ribs, grinning as he squirmed away from her.

"Come then," she insisted with a bright smile. "I need your opinion on a dress or two. After all, I must look my very best for the maiden voyage of the grand, unsinkable Titanic! And then, of course, for darling Nikola."

He grumbled, shook his head, but let her lead him into her rooms.


	8. Not Quite The Talk

**October, 2002:**

"Ashley?"

"Mmm?" the teen replied, shovelling down cereal as she flicked through some magazine without even looking up.

"I think we ought to have a talk," Helen started, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks. Oh God in heaven, why was this so hard? She wasn't exactly sexually naive by any means, she'd had more than her share of lovers in her lifetime but this... this was different.

"What is it, Mom?"

Helen swallowed and carefully seated herself at the table. This was something she knew would have to come at some point but when her daughter was 16? It seemed wrong. Especially considering Helen hadn't been romantically involved with anyone until she was over 30. Yes, different times and all that but surely 16 wasn't average, was it?

"I'd like to talk to you about... Eric."

Ashley's eyes widened and she swallowed her breakfast before sitting back. The look she gave her mother was one of a deer in the headlights, bright blue eyes startlingly open. She even shook her long fringe back, a true sign she was paying attention.

Her 'secret' boyfriend had, until the other day brought Helen a great deal of amusement. Ashley knew full well that all communications on the Sanctuary computers were monitored and Helen hadn't even needed Henry to find out exactly why her daughter was suddenly staying back after school just that little bit later for the last few weeks. Their online chats were flirty and sweet and Helen had thought it all rather adorable.

Until Henry had come to her one long weekend when home from university. He'd been shy all his life but this event had brought forth something even more puzzling. He could barely speak, his cheeks flushed with sheer embarrassment and it had taken several long minutes before he could even utter a single word.

"Ashley."

"What about her?"

"She... She's... dating someone."

"I know."

He'd breathed a sigh of relief at that but then stiffened at the confusion still on her face.

Several more long minutes later, he'd stuttered the words Helen had never thought to have to hear from her adopted son. They'd sat in stony silence for what had felt like an eternity.

"I'm sorry, Doc," he'd half whispered. "I just..."

"You did the right thing Henry," she assured him with a pat on the back.

And so now here she sat, four days later with a purpose in mind but fear in her heart. How could she talk to her daughter about boys? She could have the anatomical talk, go into the physicality of intimacy with her doctor face on but that wasn't what her daughter needed. She knew the mechanics, of that Helen was sure.

It was a talk that she knew she'd have to have eventually. Even when she grew up it was customary for mothers to talk to their daughters about intimacy and 'bedroom activities' as the maid who had given the speech to Helen had phrased it. This shouldn't be the cause of so much apprehension.

"I understand you... ahem, borrowed some supplies from Henry..."

The girl's face flushed with embarrassment.

"... and while I must commend you for choosing to be safe-"

"Stopstopstopstopstop!" Ashley nearly shrieked, covering her hands with her ears.

"- I also feel that I should perhaps broach the idea of-"

"No really! Stop! Please!" She tried to stand and bolt to the door but Helen was quicker, grabbing her wrist. This was a speech she had actually written out and she was damn well going to finish it.

"-being emotionally mature enough to handle this."

Silence fell and Helen grit her teeth.

"I trust you Ashley and I trust that you know what you're doing but... but he may not understand what he is truly doing. This is... a big... step and... Iwantyoutoknowthatifyouwantt otalkIammorethanwillingtolis ten."

She loosened her grip on Ashley's wrist, testing the waters.

"I know it's probably embarrassing to even think about discussing such things with me but I... Well, I've been there and I understand that sometimes, we all need a chance to unload."

Ashley slowly sat back down, eyes dropping to her now soggy bowl of cereal.

Helen's heart was pounding but she forced herself to sit back in her chair and relax slightly.

"I've always thought," she put in softly when Ashley made no move to talk, "that if you cannot discuss sex, you are not ready to be having it."

Ashley's cheeks flushed again and she nodded dumbly.

"Are you saying that you think I shouldn't?" the girl asked carefully, now pushing around the cereal in the bowl.

"No..." Helen replied just as carefully. Ashley looked up and Helen sighed.

"You're my daughter and I don't ever want to even think about the fact that somebody is... with my baby girl but, while I'd prefer that you became a nun, I understand what it is to want this... this... this experience."

"How old were you?"

The question made Helen's head spin for a moment and she coughed lightly.

"You mean, when I first..."

"Yeah..."

Helen almost smiled at the memory. They had been very drunk and in reality it wasn't really sex considering his pants never came off but if they hadn't been interrupted she knew where it would have gone. At the time she'd thought so, anyway...

And, in truth, it sounded a lot better than the reality which was shortly before her 32nd birthday.

"29."

"What?!" Ashley asked, sounding scandalised. "I mean, that's so... so..."

"Old?"

"Well, yeah," the girl admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. "How did you wait that long?"

"It was expected that a woman save herself for her betrothed," Helen said, fighting a smirk. He most certainly hadn't been her betrothed at any point.

"You so didn't," Ashley said with a snort. "You were so a bad girl."

"Something like that," Helen allowed wryly. "However I do not expect for you to wait until you reach the seasoned age of 29 before..." And there went the fledgling confidence.

Ashley fell back into the uncomfortable silence easily, eyes once again trained on her food.

"My point is Ashley that... if you need to talk, at any point, you mustn't be afraid to come to me. No matter what, I trust you and I am here for you."

At that Ashley finally looked up and smiled.

"I know. Why do you think I asked if you wanted to go see a movie tomorrow afternoon?"


	9. Graduation

**I apologise. My Teslen shipper is showing here.**

* * *

**April, 1880:**

One by one they made their way across the stage. Helen smiled and clapped like the rest of the audience, truly pleased for her friends.

It wasn't their fault she couldn't join them. James and Nigel looked so resplendent in their robes. John did too to an extent however his six foot plus frame was not adequately covered by the black fabric, leaving a few too many inches of leg and wrist showing. Helen had given him a good ribbing about it,

They had, in an attempt to lift her spirits, stolen a gown and cap for her, presenting them to her with a large, garish bunch of flowers.

It was a sweet gesture and she thanked them wholeheartedly for it but it did nothing but fuel the pit of resentment inside of her.

She had worked as hard as any of them, more so than Nigel probably yet she was forced to sit in the audience as qualifications were handed out. Her marks surpassed the majority of their class, even beating James from time to time but not one of her teachers had recognised that fact. One or two of them had politely asked if she'd be returning to audit the same classes next year considering her friends would no longer be at the university. She'd curtly informed them that she would once again apply to take the subjects as a student, rather than an auditor.

She did not have high hopes for her chances though. These past few years she'd been something of a menace, uncaring what the university thought of her and her ways. It was highly unlikely they'd grant her a place as a student.

Her father, on the rare occasions he was home, was urging her to pick another university, somewhere less prestigious so that they would be less daunted by taking on a female student but Helen would have none of it. Her father had gone to Oxford and she intended, one day, to walk out of those grand doors in the robes of a scholar.

But not today. Today she would watch her three closest friends graduate.

She sighed, fanning herself absently before readjusting her skirts.

For all the achievements she'd made on these grounds, for all the barriers she'd crossed, today was not her day of celebration.

A man on stage in a stately gown was still droning at them, something about prestige and following in footsteps but Helen was barely listening. She was bored. Bored and angry.

Biting her lip, she looked towards the doors open to her left. It was a terribly hot day and they'd left them open in the hopes of inviting a breeze through.

"Bored yet?" a familiar voice breathed against her ear.

Helen only just controlled her yelp.

A hand drifted to her waist, holding her in place as whoever held her chuckled softly.

Somehow, Helen kept herself from turning in her seat. She knew that voice anywhere. Just as she knew those hands against her corseted waist. Only one man drew lines up and down her sides like that.

Suddenly she felt faint, like she could very well fall back through the chair and into his arms without a care.

"Nikola Tesla," she breathed. It had been over six months since she'd seen her best friend after he'd snuck away the day after Christmas. She'd written him angry letters, most of which had gone unanswered. Last she knew, he had been in Prague, trying his hand at yet another university. His most recent letter had given her the impression that he was fitting in just about as well as he had at Oxford.

"Miss me?" he whispered, lips brushing against her earlobe.

"What are you doing? Anyone could see?" she hissed back, trying not to draw attention to them. She'd chosen a seat way up the back which gave her a modicum of privacy but there was still the worry that someone would turn and see them.

"You looked bored," he whispered. "I thought I'd spice up your day."

Helen bit back a groan before carefully bringing her hand to rest on his. He threaded his fingers through hers and Helen smiled for a moment before pushing him off.

"Get away from me," she hissed, straightening her back.

"Come with me," he asked softly. "It's too hot in here anyway. You must be just about dying under all those layers."

Helen pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Oh come now, Helen," he tried again. "The boys won't hold it against you if you slip out now. They've all got brothers and mothers and the like to deal with after this."

"No, leave me be, Nikola," she muttered, trying to pay some attention to the stage.

"I missed you," he tried, pleading with her as his hands went back to her waist. "Please. We'll be back by the time it's all over."

He lay his head on her shoulder, his hands wresting benignly around her middle and Helen felt herself cave. Nikola was always her partner in crime. And he wasn't graduating either. Perhaps it was right to spend today with him once more...

Well, after she beat him soundly for running away in the first place.

Taking a quick look around, Helen steeled herself, taking a deep breath before standing up and, as quietly as her skirts would allow, walking towards the door. If anyone asked, she'd simply blame the heat.

She didn't hear Nikola's footsteps behind her but she wasn't naive enough to think that meant he wasn't following. She kept walking away from the main building until she was certain they'd not be disturbed. Helen paused by an arch way, turning with a scowl for Nikola.

He grinned broadly at her, arms open in greeting as he waltzed towards her.

Helen brought her hand up and slapped his cheek with all she had.

"Ow!" he cried, eyeing her angrily. "What was that for?"

"For leaving," she said frostily. "Without a proper goodbye. And for not writing often enough. And for leaving me all alone here."

"You aren't alone!" he exclaimed, holding his cheek. He scowled. "I think this is going to bruise."

"Oh you'll heal," she said, rolling her eyes. "Vampire, remember?"

"It still hurts," he grumbled. "If you cut me, do I not bleed?"

"Don't you sully Shakespeare with your... your... your..."

"My what?" he teased, stepping closer to her.

"Don't give me that look, Tesla. You're in big trouble."

Nikola chuckled, closing in on her. He took her waist in his hands, tugging her forward until she fell against his chest.

Helen opened her mouth to protest once more but Nikola swallowed her words with a bruising kiss.

She was so surprised she forgot to fight him off, her body bending beneath his as she kissed him back. Nikola took full advantage, holding her tightly as his mouth moved hungrily against hers. He was getting greedier and greedier as the seconds passed and Helen let him. He tasted the same as always, his body felt the same as always and Helen remembered easily why she used to let him do this to her whenever he pleased. He was truly an exceptional kisser.

It wasn't until she was pink cheeked from the lack of oxygen that Helen even thought to pull back. Not that she wanted to, it was Nikola who reminded her of the need to breathe, pulling back with a gasp.

Helen swayed in his arms, her vision blurring but Nikola held her steady.

"Oh, you missed me," he said smugly, squeezing her waist. "You so missed me."

Helen gasped down some air before she pushed away from him.

"I hate you," she breathed with a scowl, bringing her hand up and slapping his cheek again.

"Stop hitting me!"

* * *

"If this is our graduation present, I think you can keep it," James said as he, John and Nigel strolled up to where Nikola and Helen were lounging on a picnic blanket, a basket filled with fresh pastries between them.

"Tesla!" Nigel enthused, holding out his hand and pulling the other man to his feet. They embraced quickly before breaking apart with matching grins. "Good to see you, mate," Nigel continued.

"When did you get back?" John asked, eyes narrowing.

"Earlier this morning," Nikola replied breezily. "I stole Helen away from that droll old ceremony."

"Good to see you, Tesla," James drawled, narrowing his eyes.

"Say it like you mean it, James," Helen teased. "Now come sit, all of you. I have your gifts right here."

The four men sank to the ground obligingly, arranging themselves around Helen.

"Queen Helena and her court," Nikola teased as he slipped in beside her, closer than strictly appropriate.

"Stop talking," Helen said tartly, shoving a pastry in his mouth. "You're much more pleasant when your mouth is occupied."

Nikola chuckled through the pastry, eyes sparkling at Helen in that mischievous way that meant she simply had to slap his chest.

"Don't be crude," she said sharply, hoping her cheeks didn't flush with colour.

"Just like old times," James said, shaking his head in disapproval but the others laughed.

And then Helen really did blush.


	10. Choices

**Sorry for the delay! I keep getting distracted by uni and then silly ideas that I can't get out of my head until I at least start them! **

**Here's some fluffy, fluffy baby stuffs to make up for it :P**

**xx**

* * *

She'd come to him before to ask it of him, it had been a decision she was so sure of but then war broke out and... well things had gotten complicated. After, when they were safely back in England, Germany's crimes on display for the world he had asked if she still wished to go through with it. She'd asked for a day to think it over although they both knew her answer.

No.

It was too dangerous, the Sanctuary network expanding at a frightening rate, taking her further and further from safety. Things were unstable not just for her but for the world. They barely needed to have the conversation but had had it anyway. James had been supportive, taking her hand and telling her he understood the decision and that he'd be there for her whenever she did finally decide to go through with it. And he'd meant it, she was certain but it didn't stop the hurt in his eyes. He knew his suit would last indefinitely and nor would their affections for one another.

They'd been sleeping together for the better part of two decades by then and it had become an unspoken agreement between them that it would not last. Not for lack of trying or for lack of time but because of all their time. They'd spent too long together in some respects.

That was why he was upset with her choice. Because if she put it off, he wouldn't be the father. Oh he'd be uncle James, bringer of treats and warm hugs but he wanted more and she knew it. He'd be a good father, she had no doubt in her mind. But it wasn't about him, it wasn't even about her.

She used John as an excuse blaming his reappearance for her decision not to do it then. Things had to cool, she told herself. Things had to slow down a little. It was stupid, she knew her life would do nothing but increase in pace as the years ticked by.

So she waited. And waited and waited and waited.

It was the mid seventies before she thought about it again. Properly thought about it that was. Even then it was nothing more than a niggling presence in the back of her head, asking if she'd still be able, if she'd accidentally killed it by waiting so long.

It was the early eighties when she began to spend an inordinate amount of time down in the cool cellar the device was stored in. She'd just sit there, looking at the cool steel that hummed away, keeping the child safe and protected. She didn't think while she was there, she simply sat on the floor, back pressed to the contraption as she closed her eyes and took a few minutes for herself.

James apparently knew about her behaviour, calling her on it once.

"Are you considering it?"

She'd glared at her protégé of the time who had alerted James before rolling her eyes at him.

That had been the end of the discussion for a time but it didn't stop her from visiting the cool, dark room every chance she got.

It was her birthday when she finally decided.

Her staff had thrown her a party, balloons, streamers and cake. The works, they'd called it. There had been goofy party hats, a piñata and several lingering birthday kisses. They'd treated her like a child the entire day, keeping her occupied with guest after guest, coming to congratulate her and wish her well.

But she hadn't been able to focus at all, her mind being wrapped up in the box down below she wanted to go visit.

She knew she had to do it then. She had no choice.

James had come without her having to ask for more than a chance to see him once more. That man was almost psychic, turning up with a wide and knowing smile.

It was done in a matter of hours. They didn't tell her team what she was doing, just in case it didn't take but then, six weeks later she had to.

"Whose is it?"

"Mine."

They'd been politely curious about the whole thing and she hadn't told them everything but a few weeks later when a young boy came to live with them, everyone had looked at her warily as if trying to gauge her reaction.

She named the boy after her dead little brother, holding tight to him as he shivered in her arms. They realised quickly that there was something different about the (they guessed) seven year old but Helen had brushed it off. She refused to think of it as practicing her parenting skills but when it became apparent that young Henry would not be leaving her Sanctuary any time soon and the word 'adoption' was thrown about, she couldn't bring herself to say no.

He was by her side when she eventually went into labour, the tiny boy clinging to her hand as he waited for her pain to pass. He'd called the others to her side with a few panicked cries and, although he was shepherded away eventually, she'd been quick to call him back when it was all done.

He was carefully lifted up to sit on the bed and he peered curiously at the bundle of blankets in her arms.

"This is your little sister, Henry," she'd told him quietly, looking down at her ninety eight year old baby.

He simply gaped, reaching out one tentative hand to rest against her sweet cheek.

"Ashley," she murmured softly, the weight in her arms feeling something close to heavenly. "I've been waiting a while to meet you."


	11. Unexpectedly Expecting

**28****th**** November, 1888:**

Helen sat on the edge of her bed, counting in her head. The dates were betraying her and it didn't matter how many times she did it, she came to no other conclusion. Three days ago she'd watched him kill a woman, four days before that Nikola and James had sat her down to explain it to her and three days before that Nigel had come stumbling into the parlour with a bloody gash on his arm. That had been the start of it, she supposed with a sigh.

Nigel had been out at James' request to follow up a hunch the detective had had. Sunday night. Following the pattern, it should have been around then considering no bodies had been discovered on Friday or Saturday. It had become their habit to send one of their number out each weekend in the hopes of catching their mystery killer. Helen had held strongly to the belief that they must have been an abnormal and had decided it was their responsibility.

John had been sent out the weekend prior. The thought made her blood run cold yet again. He had come home, heartbroken at not catching the man before he took poor Mary Jane's life. Helen had comforted him as best she knew how. Now she hated herself for such actions.

But even if she hadn't been with him that night she knew she'd not have been able to prevent what had now happened. Eight weeks, she guessed. She knew her body well enough to recognise the signs and she hated that she hadn't realised sooner. Eight weeks.

A sob slipped through her lips and she closed her eyes, praying that none of the beings with super human hearing in the house picked up on the sound. She wanted to be alone to process this.

She'd been drifting off to sleep finally, after several long days of being unable to reach such a state when the thought had come to her. Her head had started racing after that and, well, even after checking the maths three times she couldn't force herself to accept what was undoubtedly fact.

Worse than that, she couldn't figure out what she was supposed to do now.

Another sob slipped through her lips and this time she couldn't even attempt to stifle it. Wrapping her arms around her body she tried not to think about the fact that her life as she knew it was over. No more science, no more becoming a doctor, no more being even tenuously accepted amongst academic circles. No more abnormals.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Helen?"

"Go away Nikola," she called back, working to keep her voice steady.

"Helen? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, please, just leave."

"I'm coming in now, all right?"

"No, of course it's not all right! This is my bed chamber and I am hardly dressed for receiving visitors..."

The last word trailed off as Nikola slipped into the room regardless. He held a candlestick in one hand, the small flame casting strange shadows across his face. The light wasn't enough for her to properly make out the look on his face but she could tell his eyes were dark with concern. He moved towards her cautiously, as if frightened she might chastise him for disobeying her request that he leave.

When he finally made it to her side, his small candle resting on the bedside table, she was barely able to keep from shaking once more. He sat too close to her, one arm working its way around her shoulders as the other took one of her hands in his.

"Helen," he started quietly, his voice laced with pity and sadness. Normally she would push away such things and demand that he treat her not as someone fragile and broken but, in that very second, Helen knew she was broken.

Instead she turned and collapsed against him, one hand flying around his waist as the other fisted in his shirt. He was still dressed in his customary suit, vest unbuttoned so that when she buried her face in his chest, the heat of his skin seeped through and warmed her cheek. The cool night air seeping through the floor boards made her huddle even closer, tucking her legs up so that her knees rested against his legs.

He tightened his grip on her almost instantly, holding her firmly as she shook ever so slightly. No tears came but instead she felt herself shivering uncontrollably.

Nikola didn't speak, just rocking her back and forwards ever so gently as she clung to him.

One hand smoothed down her flyaway curls with such tenderness and care that Helen wanted to cry. Only she couldn't, her body wouldn't allow such a traitorous action. Something inside her stopped the tears, seeing them as too weak despite that fact that she was here, in nothing more than a nightgown, clinging to Nikola as he cradled her like a child.

Like a child.

Like a child.

She sobbed softly once more and Nikola tightened his grip even further.

"Whatever is the matter, Helen?" he asked kindly, his voice a low whisper. She sniffed and held him tighter.

"I... I'm with..." she whispered, biting her lip as a single tear slipped from her eye.

"You can tell me," he encouraged, his voice rumbling through his chest and into her in a most pleasant and comforting way. She wanted to tell him, she really did but she didn't want to either. While he would understand it would mean he would see her as dirty and damaged and probably push her away. He was so warm and smelt so lovely that she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"I know I can," she replied softly, stealing closer once again.

"Then please tell me," he said urgently. "Let me help."

She sniffled again and shook her head.

"You cannot help with this, Nikola. This is a problem of my own making."

"Let me try," he urged. "I can't bear to see you like this."

She pressed to his chest once more, inhaling the warm, spicy scent of him before preparing for him to toss her across the room.

"I'm with child."

He stiffened almost instantaneously but she didn't let go of him, trying to take as much strength as she could from his firmly muscled chest.

After a few minutes she began to pull back and, much to her disappointment, he let her go. Straightening out beside him, she prepared herself to ask him to leave but he cut her off, taking her hand before turning to face her properly. She looked up into his dark grey eyes, praying that he would not think less of her for such an action but it hardly seemed fair to ask such a thing of him when she'd been nothing short of monstrous at times.

Then, out of the blue his free hand grabbed her chin tightly, holding her steady and he leaned in and crushed their lips together. Helen blinked in surprise but couldn't remember to fight such actions until he pulled away, eyes unreadable.

Then he slid from the bed to kneel before her, still holding her hand tightly.

"Helen," he began as he settled himself on one knee before her. "I know I would not be your first choice and nor is this the perfect beginning to a relationship but... But I care for you more than I could ever possibly express. I love you. I love you, Helen Magnus and I would be honoured if you would agree to become my wife."

She gaped at him, eyes wide. He was... Marriage? Of all the reactions she had anticipated, this was not one.

"Let me care for you, Helen," he continued fervently. "I will give you everything your heart desires, I will never even think to stop you from becoming the illustrious doctor we both know you shall one day become and I will do my best to be worthy of you, to be worthy of being your husband. Let me raise your child as... as... as our child. Let me give you all the things in the world that you desire, let me care for you and love you and stay by your side for the rest of our long lives."

His hand squeezed hers gently and he smiled warmly up at her.

"So, how 'bout it? Will you take me as your husband?"


	12. Maternal

**October, 1985**

"What do you mean you found him?" Helen asked.

"Just that," came James' response from the handset. "They say he simply walked into the village without a shred of clothing on his back, bawling his eyes out. Marcus is an old friend and when he saw the boy, he called me."

"Why would he call you?" Helen put in as she began to open the nearest file. She had a feeling he was being purposefully cryptic but the fact that James Watson had picked up the phone to call her warranted a little more acceptance of said cryptic-ness. That and the morning sickness was easier to ignore if she could puzzle over him.

"You'll see why soon enough..."

"James..."

"I had no choice, Helen. Really, it was this or..."

"James?"

"I couldn't think of anyone else who would care for him."

"JAMES!" she almost yelled. "You better not be saying what I think you're saying or else I am going to have your head on a platter by morning."

"I'm sorry, Helen, I really am."

Before she could either let out a dismayed retort or another death threat, the door to her office swung open, her old friend cradling a sleeping child in his large arms.

"We shall talk later about your punishment, James," Helen told him curtly, hanging up before he could apologise again. Sneaky bastard. He knew her hormones too well and was using them to his own advantage. Lately, anything related to children made her teary and weepy, especially those horrid human interest programs that she knew for a fact were deadening to the brain. Just one look at wide, baby eyes and she was gone into a pile of weeping, woeful woman.

It really was disgusting. She'd never cried so much in her life.

And of course, what was her old friend carrying in his arms? A child. A beautiful, lightly snoring little boy. He had tufts of soft brown hair all over his head and his clothes didn't fit and all Helen wanted was to grab him up and hold him tight.

"Checked him over," her friend grunted as she moved around the desk. "Seems healthy, might wanna do a proper check up when he wakes."

Helen merely nodded, holding out her arms. On closer inspection, he wasn't a baby or even a toddler. He was bigger, perhaps six years old and, when Helen cradled him to her chest, he squirmed and sighed.

Breathing deeply, she moved to her sofa, dropping down carefully as she shifted the sleeping child. He was beautiful, she realised, all creamy skin and round cheeks. Running a finger over one cheek, she smiled, not hearing the click of the door as her friend left them alone.

Damn James, she thought absently. He knew she'd never be able to send him away now, not after holding his warm little body in her arms. She knew it was foolish and probably would be the end of her but she wanted him. She wanted to take this boy and raise him alongside the child growing within her.

She shifted him once again, trying not to jostle the boy too much but he awoke, eyelids fluttering open slowly to reveal soft grey blue eyes before the child looked up at her in pure fear. He stiffened momentarily before suddenly wailing, tears falling down his cheeks as he fought her grip.

"Shhh," Helen tried, holding him closer to his chest. "Shhhh, it's alright. You're safe, you're safe," she cooed. It took a minute or two but soon enough the boy quietened, shaking in her arms.

"You're safe," she said once more, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The boy merely blinked up at her, shying away from her touch ever so slightly.

"Do you have a name?" she asked, trying to soothe him still. He didn't respond, blinking again before shoving one fist into his mouth and sucking. Frowning, she smoothed over his flyaway hair.

"Well, we can't call you 'boy' now can we?" she said, sitting him up slightly on her lap. Cocking her head she thought for a moment. Naming a child had always seemed like a terribly frightening thing to do even with a newborn, let alone a child who had probably already been known by one name. More than that, the first names that came to mind were those of her old friends but, considering James' attitude, she could very safely cross his off the list. Briefly she considered naming him Nikola merely to annoy James but that seemed to childish even for her hormone flustered state.

And then she remembered the date.

"Henry," she whispered, looking down at the boy. Today ought to have been her brother's birthday but instead, for so many years it had marked an anniversary that had been almost too painful to remember.

She swallowed thickly.

"Henry," she said again, feeling more and more confident in her decision. "Henry."

And then he smiled.


	13. Do-over

**October 15, 2009:**

Grabbing the bottle, Helen swung it up to her lips once more, enjoying the way the fine whiskey burned its way down her throat. It was like an anesthetic of sorts, taking away her ability to think of the other pain.

It was a pain she'd been dealing with for weeks now, counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds until she lost her daughter.

Again.

She'd gone over it a thousand times already, thinking out every possible way she could save Ashley without interfering and it just...

So here she sat, in the palatial gardens of her new Sanctuary with a bottle of whiskey that had probably been a very expensive gift from a very committed lover a few years back. She couldn't remember and, right now, she didn't really care.

It was odd, she mused, taking another swig. After having gone through it once already, she half expected the pain to be easier to deal with. Not lesser by any means just... manageable.

She was wrong.

Nothing was more excruciating than sitting, doing nothing, and waiting for the moment to tick by.

She'd only allowed herself the opportunity to see Ashley once a year, sneaking little visits when the other Helen's back was turned. Leaving always felt like losing a piece of herself over and over again but until now she hadn't properly contemplated saving her daughter.

For so long she'd been able to pretend she had let out all her grief in the way she had for John, taking solace in the fact that neither of them would be suffering any more. It wasn't so much that Helen believed in some kind of Heaven or Hell, more that she had to believe that there was more to existence than this. There simply had to be something more, she was certain of it.

And so she had consoled herself with that, reminding herself on those dark and lonely nights that Ashley would be with the grandfather she never really knew, the grandmother who would have cherished her and the baby boy who should have been her uncle.

Perhaps even John was with her, looking out for the little girl he'd never really known.

And Helen had been doing well with that little mental image, it had kept her going through even the darkest of days until now. The date had almost snuck up on her.

But now it was here and she was drinking more whiskey than was probably safe or smart. But really, there was nothing else for it. She couldn't mope over photo albums because she had none, she couldn't fall into the arms of those who would understand because they would be comforting the other version of her. But she could drink.

The night air was cool and still, leaving Helen perfectly alone with her thoughts. She couldn't even hear the faint hum of any nearby machinery that clung to her new home even when there was nothing to be humming. There were no lights either, the giant cavern dark and deserted.

She wanted it that way, she wanted the dark and the quiet. She couldn't deal with people and their problems today.

Helen eyed the bottle in her hands with disdain, wondering why there was barely a sip of whiskey left. She downed it with a frown before tossing the bottle aside.

There would be more somewhere. Whenever she finally made her way back to the main building. There was a cellar, already mostly full that she could delve into if her private stores failed her.

It felt strangely comforting to be this drunk, she decided. It was like she was invincible and safe yet totally exposed to the world. Like she could feel everything but nothing all at the same time.

Her shoulder was tingling, the long healed scars from where Ashley had attacked prickling beneath the light fabric of her top. She rubbed the spot, hand closing around where the wound had been as if holding on to the pain meant that she could hold on to her daughter.

But she couldn't, not really. When the sun rose, Ashley would be gone from this world and gone from Helen's life for a second time. When it had first happened, so many had spoken to her of the tragedy of a parent burying their child and she'd nodded and accepted their condolences but what no one told her was that she'd have to do it again. The idea that she would have to sit by and watch her daughter suffer again was one she had not been prepared to contemplate and, when James had first talked her out of suicide, it was the one thing that made her consider the action again.

Sitting amongst what may have been her greatest achievement to date, Helen couldn't say she wished she had taken her life but the thought of being with Ashley again, of leaving all this petty fighting behind was tempting.

She couldn't do it though, not after all this time.

Closing her eyes, Helen bit back the tears that threatened. She wouldn't cry, not now. Not when her daughter was still alive.

Instead she focused on remembering the way she smelt, the way Ashley felt in her arms, even the way her eyes darkened when she was furious at Helen for something beyond her control.

She had to hold on to the memories, to what little she had left because tomorrow morning, when the sun rose once more, Helen would lose her daughter for the second time.

And then she would cry.


	14. Stuttering

**October 25th, 2009:**

"_James Watson was..." _

_And that was as far as she got before she froze. Helen Magnus didn't do freezing and she had never, in her memory, lost her words in the middle of a speech. She was perfectly fine with public speaking, she really was, it had never been a problem in fact, growing up it had been something she thoroughly enjoyed doing. _

_But now she... she had no words._

"_James," she tried again, her voice reverberating around the mammoth cathedral-like structure with the aid of a small microphone. _

_She looked to the device, hoping it would be easier to look at than the sea of faces. The crumpled speech that shook in her hand was too difficult to focus on because she knew if she did, there was a fair chance she would lose it again. More than that, she knew her speech off by heart. Words from the soul and all. _

"_I met James..."_

_The words sounded so futile to her ears, so empty and flat. It wasn't enough, they weren't enough to sum up... _James.

_At moments like this she would always turn to him. He was the only one who managed to calm her the way she needed to be calmed. Her fear and frustrations weren't always visible or palpable but James always managed to see them and bring her down from whichever dangerous place her mind was lurking. _

_He was... _James.

"_I-uh, I..."_

_She took a deep breath._

* * *

"Lie back and think of England."

"James!"

"Well, it'll keep you calm, will it not?"

"That is hardly appropriate conversational fodder."

"Possibly but you forget this is you and I."

* * *

_Her lips quirked into a smile, something she hadn't expected to occur today._

* * *

"Mom, James is right. Deep breath and it'll all be over."

"You don't think I know that!?"

"She's snippy today."

"It's because I walked in on her having a minor meltdown earlier."

"James!"

"Seriously?"

"Ashley! Enough! Get out!"

"Quite. You'd have thought after all this time a simple check-up would not be cause for alarm."

"I have a perfectly good doctor in town that I normally go to for matters such as this, James. There is no need for you to... perform this particular procedure."

"It's not as if I haven't seen it all before."

"That is beside the point!"

"Aw, c'mon Mom, just loosen up."

"Stop snickering, young lady."

"Sure thing, Mom."

"I'm serious! Ashl-AH! James! Warning next time. That is cold."

"Whatever you say, darling."

* * *

_She nearly started as the memory flashed through her mind, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. Though, of all the flashbacks to have, it was maybe the most fitting. Both James and Ashley had always taken pleasure in making Helen suffer through uncomfortable situations and what was more uncomfortable than burying one of her oldest friends without her only daughter?_

_The memorial service they held for her had been a little under a week ago. The empty casket sat as testament to her daughter's sacrifice whereas James' was full of an old body that did not belong to the man she knew. _

_They'd put off the service for as long as they could and she was only here for the four hours in which it would be conducted. It felt so wrong. This was James, she should have been here to help with it all._

_It wasn't the first funeral she'd had to plan after all._

* * *

"Helen, a letter's just come."

"Bring it over, James."

"It's from Jeanette."

Her heart stilled.

"When is it?"

"Tuesday week. She wants us to come early though and help. Do you think we'll be ready to hand over to your protégé in time?"

"He should be able to handle everything for a week or two."

They both fell silent.

"Is it wrong to miss him when it had been so long?"

"No, he was our friend."

"But still..."

"I miss him too."

* * *

_Planning after Nigel's death had been a nightmare between the travelling and the sheer number of people who had turned up, the minister had conducted the funeral outside simply to accommodate all who attended. It was so unlike Nikola's simple and sheltered affair that Helen had been at a loss as to how to work it all._

* * *

"James?"

"Yes dear?"

"When... when your time comes, please don't make me organise all this for you?"

"If my time comes, Helen, I sincerely hope it is long after you have passed on too."

She laughed softly.

"I can't bear the thought of losing you too."

"Then I shall try my best to outlive you dear."

* * *

_They'd returned home shortly after, Helen growing more and more distant from James. The loss of one of the few constants in her life had left her more unwilling than ever become close with him again._

_When she'd decided to carry Ashley they'd become close again much too both their delights. _

* * *

"She's beautiful."

"I know."

"And so small."

"I know."

"I think I might already love her."

"Me too."

* * *

_It was only when she heard her chuckle into the microphone that she remembered where she was._

_Turning with a smile, she looked at the casket, overflowing with James' favourite flowers. _

"_James. You were one of my first friends and one of the few who ever showed faith in me. I did not say it enough when you were with me but I am forever in your debt and I shall always love you deeply. May you rest in a place far from the memory of Sherlock and his Watson. You deserve some peace at last."_

_And with that she stepped away, taking with her a yellow rose which she placed on the casket. Her fingertips trailed across the polished wood and she smiled._

_He was with Ashley and as long as they were together, they'd both be fine. _

_Which only left her with a global Sanctuary network to worry about. _

"_Goodbye James."_


	15. Scared

**September, 1992:**

Helen hummed in content, snuggling down into the bed as the storm raged on outside. She'd always enjoyed storms, the raw power of them excited her and the rain sluicing against the windows made her sleepy. It was the kind of night she knew she was assured of deep, restful sleep.

In fact, she'd been dreaming on and off for a little while now, drifting on the precipice of sleep and consciousness. She supposed that it made them more memories than dreams but she was so content that she couldn't bring herself to distinguish between the two.

She was dreaming about picnics on river banks, summer sun warming her skin as she pulled a cherry from her bodice. Nikola was across the rug laughing at her, vest unbuttoned as homage to the warmer temperatures. He looked so young and naive to her eye. It was back when things had been simple and uncomplicated. Back before he died both metaphorically and, it seemed, physically. Almost 60 years and no contact? Dead was the only word she could come up with to describe it.

Helen sighed, brow knitting together though she refused to open her eyes.

She'd not allow herself to dwell on the past. It was all so long ago it hardly mattered. What did matter was the happiness she'd felt that day. Taking that and only that, Helen let herself drift off into sleep, a small smile tickling her lips.

Only when a small whimper reached her ears did she wake again. It was still dark and the storm still raged but she was alert instantly.

The whimper came again and she sat up, twisting in the sheets to look at her bedroom door.

"Ashley?"

The whimper came again and she watched as the door slowly inched open, a tiny sliver of light peeking through.

"Mommy?" she asked softly, her voice small and pitiful as she stepped through.

"What is it darling?" Helen asked, all thoughts of returning to sleep gone. The five year old sniffled, rubbing a fist across her face. Her little blonde plaits were in disarray, half unwound and her light blue pyjamas were misbuttoned with all the stubbornness of a child who insisted on doing everything herself.

She sniffed again and walked slowly towards the bed, bottom lip trembling.

She said nothing as she pulled back the covers, struggling to haul herself up onto the bed before crawling across to Helen, curling into her open arms.

"Mommy, I'm scared," she whispered before a tiny sob wracked her body.

Helen gathered her daughter in her arms, sliding back beneath the covers as she pressed a kiss into the soft blonde hair.

"Remember what I said?" she whispered in response, rubbing circles on the girl's back. "If it doesn't scare Henry,-"

"It shouldn't scare me. I know," Ashley said softly. "But... but..."

"I know," Helen said, cutting her off. She pulled the girl closer to her chest as she felt sleep once again creep up on her.

"Mommy?" Ashley asked, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"Yes, darling?"

"When you were little, what were you scared of?"

Helen had to smile at that.

"Of bees and cuts and elocution lessons."

"Electrocution?"

"Much worse," Helen assure the girl. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning. For now, sleep."

Ashley fell silent for a minute though Helen was under no pretence that the girl was yet asleep.

"Can I stay?"

"Always," Helen answered instantly, pressing a kiss to her daughter's head once more.

That was another thing she loved about thunderstorms.

Ashley in her arms.


End file.
